Twisted Every Way
by Viola Blakeney
Summary: I believe the title describes the author more, as you can leave it only to my twisted mind to come up with hilarity such as this! Everyone gets a piece of the action in this one! Tell your friends, and if you're not going to read it, just review it!
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1  
  
Erik poled across the lake silently, deep in thought. Before long, the boat rubbed  
against the dock and he leapt out nimbly. Much to his alarm, a lantern lit up at his side  
and a familiar voice spoke.  
  
"Erik, we meet at last!"  
  
Recognising the voice to be his old friend, Nadir, he relaxed a bit, but still kept up  
his guard.  
  
"Ah, dear daroga, we meet at last," he echoed musically.  
  
"I pray I find you in good health?" questioned the good Persian, daring to start a  
conversation.  
  
He scowled and replied, "Good health? What concern of yours is my health?"  
  
Not caught off guard by this, Nadir continued.  
  
"It's surely not healthy to be lingering in these cold cellars. Perhaps we should  
take this conversation inside?"  
  
"I think not," came the cold reply. "You've been snooping around in my Opera  
House for a long time, daroga. For all I know, once you knew the entrance to my house,  
you would run to the authorities."  
  
"Did I not save your life? Why should I betray you in such a way? Nay, you've  
known me for a long time," answered the daroga, a bit frightened at how Erik referred to  
the Paris Opera House as his own.  
  
"Why shouldn't you betray me, Nadir?" Erik whispered, looking searchingly at  
the Persian.  
  
Looking back into his golden cat eyes, Nadir assured him, "Because I'm your  
friend. You can trust me."  
  
Erik was taken aback by this. He, who had no friends, for he hardly dare to  
presume his protege was his 'friend', had one now. He closed the hiatus he had created  
and managed to spill out, "Perhaps you would like to come in for some tea?"  
  
Nadir smiled and simply said, "Since you've invited, I sha'n't decline."  
  
They climbed into the boat and Erik poled back to his house. Erik threw open his  
front door with the words, "I shall return shortly. Stay here."  
Making sure the Persian was seated comfortably on the divan, he quickly returned  
the boat to the dock and skipped lightly across the hanging rope above the lake. Silently,  
he opened his front door. He closed it, removed his hat, cloak, and gloves, and turned  
around to find the daroga perched on a chair, sucking his thumb gingerly.  
  
The Persian's eyes were wide and staring at Ayesha, who was hissing and  
prowling around the chair. Erik took one look at this spectacle and chuckled.  
  
"So you've met Ayesha, I see."  
  
At the sound of her name, the cat sauntered over to Erik, and he picked her up,  
stroking her coat lovingly.  
  
"Still not fond of cats, daroga?"  
  
To this, Nadir shook his head wildly.  
  
"Pity. Such beautiful, graceful creatures," Erik crooned to the cat. "But I'm afraid,  
my dear, we are going to have to part for a little while," he murmured, again in a musical,  
entrancing voice, while shutting the cat in his room.  
  
Turning to face the Persian, who had relaxed, he spoke.  
  
"Shall I dress the wound?"  
  
Nadir waved his hand and replied, unconvincingly, "No, it's nothing; a mere  
scratch. She just gave me a fright, that's all."  
  
Erik lifted an eyebrow under his mask, but only replied, "Tea, daroga?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Erik returned with the tea shortly, and sat himself languidly on the arm chair.   
  
"So, Nadir, how do you like my house?"  
  
The Persian looked up, startled to know he was being watched, but reminded  
himself he was with Erik, after all.  
  
"Very nice. You'll never cease to amaze me, Erik."  
  
"Don't flatter me, daroga. How have you been all these years?"  
  
Nadir shifted uncomfortably on the divan and replied, "What with the small  
pension I get from the Persian government . . . I get along. I have a small flat in which  
Darius, my servant, accompanies me. But you, Erik? How did you become a fixture at the  
Opera?" knowing full well the answer. He didn't snoop around the theatre for nothing,  
after all.  
  
Erik chuckled.  
  
"You know daroga. I sha'n't waste my breath explaining. I know what you do at  
the Opera. I know everything that goes on within my domain!"  
  
The Persian continued carelessly.  
  
"And Christine Daae and the viscount?"  
  
Erik threw down his cup of tea so violently it shattered and leaked its contents  
onto the floor.  
  
"Christine Daae is none of your business. And that fop of a viscount can go to hell  
for all I care!"  
  
Nadir started to interrupt but he continued.  
  
"Yes, I daresay we sha'n't be seeing too much more of him around here any  
longer!"  
  
The good daroga's eyes widened.  
  
"Erik, what have you done with him?"  
  
Erik ignored the Persian and produced a bunch of feathers from his pocket.  
  
"Look, daroga," he exclaimed with childlike glee, and arranging them jauntily on  
his head, "I'm le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny!"  
  
With this, he promenaded around the room while bumping into a great many items  
of furniture. He kept up a certain air about him that reminded Nadir so much of the dolt  
he couldn't help but cry out in laughter.  
Suddenly Christine came through the front door. Her face paled visibly and she  
ejaculated, "Erik, what in the world are you doing?"  
  
He stiffened, and the Persian tried to stifle his giggles. Erik stuttered for a moment  
and finally managed to get some coherent words out.  
  
"I, uh, was doing . . . absolutely nothing! Yes, I was doing absolutely nothing!"  
Christine didn't look too satisfied and Erik cried out, "It was Nadir's idea in the  
first place! He made me do it!"  
  
Nadir was still trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing and mumbled, "I had  
nothing to do with it, mademoiselle . . ."  
  
Christine thought a moment.  
  
"I asked because you looked awfully like Raoul. I thought for a moment you were  
ill, or being possessed by some evil thing, but now I see you are fine."  
  
She plucked the feathers from his head while Nadir started to cry with tears of  
laughter. Erik's shoulders shook a bit, but he restrained himself. He became solemn.  
  
"Good daroga, it was lovely having tea with you, but you've extended your  
welcome. Good day. Call again sometime."  
  
He pushed Nadir out of the door and ran to Christine.  
  
"Now we're finally alone, my dear," he purred.  
  
"What do you mean, Erik?" Christine asked innocently, twirling her hair about her  
finger.  
  
"Well . . ." he thought for a moment. What did he mean? "We can go for a stroll,"  
he suggested.  
  
She clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "Let's have one along the River  
Seine!"  
  
Erik gasped, "Don't be ridiculous, Christine! I don't go outside!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because 'they' are out there!"  
  
" 'They'? Who are 'they'?"  
  
"Incompetents! I know there are none in my cellars, unless the managers come  
down here . . ."  
  
She just nodded, and reflected that she would need to buy a dictionary if she was  
going to be around Erik all the time and his large words.  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
Chapter 2  
  
The two were silently crossing the lake when Christine asked, "Erik, why don't  
you like Raoul?"  
  
Erik mis-poled and flew off the boat, over and into the black water. If I stay quiet,  
he thought, maybe she'll think I drowned. But he soon got tired of holding his breath and  
had to come to the surface. A pair of dainty hands grabbed him and hauled him aboard.  
  
"Erik! Stop fooling around! I'm trying to talk to you seriously and you go and  
make a joke of it!" she pouted.  
  
Erik stared at her in shock. She was stronger than he thought! He stood up, and  
finished their trip across the lake in silence. He thought a moment and then decided.  
  
"Christine, I think I'm going to take you back to your dressing room. Isn't it time  
for rehearsal?" he lied..  
  
"I don't think so. Why are you so eager to get rid of me, Erik? And what's with  
you and this colloquialism?"  
  
Mon dieu, that jackanapes is corrupting her! he thought worriedly. She's acting so  
very different!  
  
"Uh . . . Christine, dear, that's not the proper use of the word. And what would  
make you think that? If you spend all of your time down here with me, people will start to  
think you've disappeared."  
  
She laughed and said, "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Erik! Raoul and I disappear all the  
time, and people don't even talk anymore!"  
  
Erik screamed in pain as soon as Raoul was mentioned. He picked up a huge stone  
and heaved it as far as he could down a dark corridor. He heard a satisfying 'crunch', and  
turned Christine down another path.  
  
"Now Christine," he said brightly, "let's continue. As I was saying, I think it's  
time for you to return to the sunlight."  
  
Christine shrugged.   
  
"Sure, but then I'll have to spend the afternoon with Raoul. We're having a picnic  
today."  
  
Erik just rolled his eyes, knowing he was going to spy on them.  
  
"Well, dear, here we are."  
  
He opened the mirror and closed it behind her. She waved 'goodbye' and opened  
her dressing room door to admit Raoul. He smothered her with kisses as she pushed him  
away.  
  
"Christine, darling, I haven't seen you for an hour! I thought I was going to wilt  
without you!" Raoul gushed.  
  
Erik felt his stomach churn at the sight of Raoul and moaned, "Oh no, I think I'm  
going to be sick . . ."  
  
Raoul looked alarmed and exclaimed, "Christine, dear, are you well? Your voice  
sounded quite different a minute ago!"  
  
Christine gave Raoul a dirty look and said, "Don't be a dolt! It was 'him'!"  
  
Raoul opened his mother to protest, but all they heard was a retching noise.  
Christine paled and pushed Raoul farther away.  
  
"Ew! Take that out in the hall! My room is clean!"  
  
Afterwards, Erik felt a little better. Then he remembered it was his pay-day.  
  
"Aha! Time to pay Messieurs Richard and Moncharmin a little visit . . ."  
  
He was making his way through an ill-lit corridor when he ran into someone. It  
was Joseph Buquet, and just his luck.  
  
"Good lord!" shrieked the stage hand. "You wet piece of stinking offal!"  
  
"Who are you calling a 'wet piece of stinking offal', you old fat drunkard?" Erik  
yelled back. Before Buquet could react, Erik kicked him where it hurts and ran off down  
the hall laughing wildly.  
  
When he was alone, he sat down and caught his breath.  
  
"What in the world is that smell?" he murmured, disgusted by it. "It smells like  
someone . . ." he paused and then held his hand up to his mouth while breathing into it.  
He sniffed.  
  
"Holy mother of pearl!" he shrieked.  
  
He made it as a mental note to brush his teeth as soon as possible.  
  
He finally made it to the managers' office and peeked in the door. The room was  
empty.  
"Damn!" he muttered, and ran to check the auditorium. He spotted them making  
their way to Box Five.  
  
"They're going to snoop around in my box!" he yelled while rushing to the hollow  
column to hide.  
  
"I'm telling you, Richard, I saw a death's head in this box!" insisted the voice of  
Moncharmin.  
  
"Well all I saw was Mme. Giry's," remarked Richard's sceptical voice. "Now are  
you satisfied? No one is here. Let's go and clean the office. Carlotta's contracts are  
collecting dust."  
  
Erik couldn't help but reply, "I'll be glad to burn them for you."  
  
Though he couldn't see them, he imagined that Moncharmin was in Richard's  
arms. They were both shrieking, anyhow, and Erik's presumption was right.  
  
"It's the ghost!" exclaimed Moncharmin, clutching Richard around the neck.  
  
"Oh get off me! There is no ghost!" Richard answered crabbily, though he had  
just shrieked and was on the verge of wetting himself.  
  
"Yes, messieurs, there is a ghost, and I am him. And you've forgotten you owe me  
twenty-thousand francs," Erik snickered. he let his voice float around the box, then let it  
whisper in Richard's ear, "You'd better pay me . . . or else."  
  
"Or else what?" challenged Moncharmin, because Richard had wet himself with  
fright.  
  
"Or else you'll find out! Don't be a jackass and just pay me the damn  
twenty-thousand francs!" Erik yelled.  
  
Moncharmin cowered and Richard whispered, "What is that smell?"  
  
"You! You're the one who needs to wear a diaper, good god!" exclaimed  
Moncharmin.  
  
"No! It smells like someone lost their lunch in here!"  
  
Erik groaned and shouted, "Leave me or I'll do it again!"  
  
The managers raced out of Box Five to their office to dig up twenty-thousand  
francs so they wouldn't have to anger the vile smelling ghost.  
  
Erik left Box Five and grinned.  
  
"I love having them under my fist! I'm on a roll today . . . Let's see what  
Carlotta's up to!"  
  
He dashed off to Carlotta's dressing room, and peeked in the door. She was sitting  
on the floor, eating a box of chocolates and licking each plump finger. He suddenly got a  
bright idea. He knew Raoul insisted that Christine kept a box of liquered chocolates in her  
dressing room, for who knows what reason.  
  
He returned with the chocolates and debated how to get Carlotta out of the room.  
He hid in a closet and threw his voice down the end of the hall.  
  
"Moooooooo!"  
  
He giggled at his genius when Carlotta thundered out down the hall exclaiming,  
"Mummy! Papa! Iz zhat you? Did you bring moi any presents?"  
  
He quickly exchanged the chocolates and returned to the closet just as he heard  
Carlotta pout, "I could ave sworn I eard zhem . . ."  
  
Erik peeked into Carlotta's dressing room to find that she had already devoured  
every last chocolate, and had now started on the wrappers and box.  
  
"Hmm. Zhey were good . . ." Carlotta slurred and stood up. Or tried to stand. Erik  
was surprised that she got drunk so quickly. He made a mental note of that and continued  
to giggle. He jumped out of the way when Carlotta crashed through the door, taking it off  
its hinges.  
  
"I must find zhose managers and speak wit zhem about my contract," she  
announced and stumbled off down the hall.  
  
Erik followed, eager to see what sort of panic might ensue. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Carlotta had de-rooted a good many potted plants, crashed through an ungodly  
amount of walls, and made a great many wrong turns before she made it to the managers'  
office. She walked through the door, taking it with her. The managers jumped out of each  
other's arms and exclaimed simultaneously, "We weren't doing anything!"  
  
"We were just, uh, doing shadow puppets!" exclaimed Moncharmin, waving his  
arms around in the room.  
  
"Yes, yes, exactly!" replied the newly freshened Richard. It was a good thing  
Carlotta was too drunk to notice the lights were off, but Erik noted this and smothered  
another giggle.  
  
Carlotta shoved herself in a chair while Richard tried in vain to conspicuously  
fumble with the lights. Erik slipped his arm in the room to do so, to the terror of Richard  
and Moncharmin. Richard slapped Moncharmin.  
  
"I told you, I can do things by myself! Your job is the laundry!" Richard  
exclaimed and turned bright red. "Can we, er, help you, la Carlotta?"  
  
Carlotta's unfocused eyes wandered around the room while she slurred, "Yez, my  
contract needs to be renewed."  
  
Moncharmin shifted uncomfortably and cautiously answered, "Uh, Carlotta . . .  
we're under orders that you are not to have a contract. Christine Daae is taking your  
place."  
  
"Zhat prostitute?" fumed drunken Carlotta. "Who tells you to do so? I shall sit on  
them!"  
  
Richard stammered, "The-the Opera G-g-g-ghost! Please don't hurt me!"  
  
"When I find im, I shall kill im! An use im instead of zhis mink fur adornment of  
mine!" screeched Carlotta.  
  
Moncharmin gasped.   
  
"You can't kill a ghost! He's already dead! Unless you . . . unless you were a  
witch!"  
  
Richard reflected.  
  
"If Carlotta's a witch, and she can make O.G. disappear for good, then we won't  
have to pay him anymore!"  
"Hurray!" exclaimed the managers gleefully.  
  
Richard continued.  
  
"If we extend your contract, Carlotta, will you get rid of O.G.?"  
  
Erik didn't like the way this was turning, so he got a sheet from the janitor's  
closet, poked eye holes, and threw it over his head. Just as Carlotta was about to shake  
hands with the managers, he raced into the room moaning, "I'm the Opera ghost! Carlotta  
exists no more, and you will pay me!"  
  
Carlotta shrieked so loudly all the glass in the room shattered instantly and she  
turned around so fast she broke the chair in half. Erik laughed maniacally while snatching  
up the contract and shredding it into minuscule pieces.  
  
"Feel my wrath!"  
  
He flew out of the room, still laughing all the way down the hall. The last thing he  
heard was Moncharmin asking Carlotta if she wanted to stay and play hide-and-go-seek  
with them in the office.  
  
Erik deposited the sheet on the floor and ran around the House looking for  
Christine. He found her nowhere, and by mistake, he ran right into little Meg Giry, of the  
corps de ballet. She started to scream, but Erik quickly covered her mouth with his hand.  
  
"Don't scream or I'll give you something to scream about," he threatened.   
  
He slowly let go of her mouth and she exclaimed, "Ew, what is that smell? Are  
you sick? Were you sick? Where were you sick?"  
  
Erik's head was starting to spin from her incessant questions. "Shut up! I'm not  
sick! I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied, trying not to open his mouth.  
  
"Why are you all wet? You need some new dry clothes! Come with me."   
  
She grabbed his wrist so severely he had no choice but to follow.  
  
"I'm afraid I have no clothes your size but this," Meg said sadly, holding up a  
mouldy tutu.  
  
Erik backed away and shrieked, "I'm not wearing that! I'd rather wear my wet  
clothes!"  
  
"You have to!" she insisted, coming closer and closer with the mouldy tutu.  
"You'll catch cold if you don't. Besides," she added wickedly, "I'll bet you have great  
legs."  
  
Erik gave a cry. Who was this child and how did he get into a condition like this?  
He leapt back into the door frame, knocking himself unconscious in the process. He came  
to in Meg's bed, with Meg patting his head.  
  
"See? Now that wasn't so hard now, was it?"  
  
"What have you done to me?" Erik screeched, covering himself protectively.  
  
Meg laughed.  
  
"Don't worry. I haven't done anything to you. Yet," she added, licking her teeth  
like a drunken prostitute.  
  
Erik squeezed his eyes shut and continued to cover his nether-region. He kept  
telling himself this was just a bad nightmare, and it would end soon. Just then the door  
opened and Mme. Giry's voice called, "Girls, ballet rehearsal. Meg, I expect more of you,  
keeping the new girl to yourself."  
  
"She's just shy, mother," called Meg.  
  
She tugged at Erik hand.  
  
"Come, it's time for ballet lessons!"  
  
Erik looked down at himself in horror. He was wearing the mouldy tutu, long  
stockings, and pointe shoes. He started to protest, but Mme. Giry looked at him and  
exclaimed, "Well, come, we can't keep the class waiting!"  
  
Meg dragged him out of the room and onto stage. He tried to run into the wings,  
but Mme. Giry banged her stick on his foot and told him she wouldn't tolerate it. He was  
praying to get through it and vowed he would never leave his house again. Thankfully, I  
have my mask, he sighed.  
  
"Girls, I have a new student. Please come forward and introduce yourself," Mme.  
Giry commanded, pointing to Erik. He shook his head, but Mme. Giry banged her stick  
again. He slowly walked downstage and stood there, humiliated.  
  
"Well?" Meg piped up.  
  
Choking back tears, Erik squeaked in a high voice, "Uh-uh-uh . . . my name's  
Erika."  
He ran back to his place and let the tears fall. That's the last time I ever mention  
Meg's ballet position to the managers, he thought. He was grateful he knew the positions  
in ballet, at least. He even admitted that it wasn't that bad. Until the ballet mistress  
decided that the girls weren't limber enough.  
  
"I want you all to practise splits."  
  
Erik nearly screamed in fright. He couldn't possibly do splits! Meg noticed his  
hesitation and she assured him.  
  
"Don't worry, they're simple."  
  
She dropped gracefully into one while Erik clutched himself. He could just  
imagine the pain.  
  
"See?" Meg said. "I'll help."  
  
She pushed him over, making sure he fell into a split. It was the best one she'd  
ever seen, she decided.  
  
Erik screamed in pain, shattering the stage lights. The auditorium was completely  
dark, perfect for his get away.  
  
"It's the ghost!" yelled Meg, soon followed by similar outbursts by all of the corps  
de ballet.  
  
Erik silently slunk off the stage, vowing he would never watch another ballet  
again, and that he would kill someone if he didn't get ice. And fast. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Erik dashed into Meg's dressing room for his clothes and rushed to find a closet to  
change in. He madly tore open the first one he came upon, only to discover it was already  
occupied by two figures passionately kissing. He first thought it to be Richard and  
Moncharmin and was about to back off with an 'excuse me!', when, upon closer  
examination, he found the couple to be Christine and that silly fop Raoul.  
  
Erik slammed the door, punched the wall with his fist, breaking though it, and  
then opened the door again.  
  
"How lovely to see you two," Erik started through clenched teeth. "What the hell  
do you think you're doing?" he demanded.  
  
Christine was the first to speak.  
  
"What's wrong with your voice, Erik? Why is it so high? And what's that smell?"  
  
Raoul pinched his nose and whined, "And what are you wearing, my good man?"  
Pointing to the mouldy tutu.  
  
Erik could feel the colour rushing to his face and ears under the mask.  
  
"It's none of your concern," he squeaked, trying to suppress his voice and the urge  
to wring Raoul's neck.  
  
Christine argued indignantly.  
  
"Yes, it's my concern! If I'm to accept any prenuptial gifts from you, I demand to  
know why you are dressed like a member of the corps de ballet!"  
  
Erik and Raoul both stared at her in shock, though both had different reasons. Erik  
was shocked at her correct usage of large words and Raoul didn't understand the phrase  
at all.  
  
Erik stammered in a high voice, "I, uh, was . . ." Oh no! he thought. I can't  
explain the real reason! It's not as if a little white lie won't hurt . . . "I was trying it on for  
Raoul. You see dear, he wanted me to steal a costume for him, so he can be a member of  
the corps de ballet. Isn't that right, Raoul dear?"  
  
Raoul's started out of his head and he exclaimed, "I had nothing to do with your  
being a cross- ouch!"  
  
Erik had quickly and stealthily slipped over to Raoul and ground his pointe shoe  
into Raoul's foot. Raoul started to cry while Christine sat there, looking disgustedly at  
him.  
  
"Don't be a baby, Raoul! Besides, Erik's not a cross-dresser! . . ." she stopped,  
"Or are you!"  
  
Erik started to protest in the negative when Christine yelled, "Yes, what about that  
wedding dress in my closet! It's not MINE! It was there when I first came to your house!  
Erik, my god, why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Erik could feel the smoke pouring out of his ears. "I'm not a damned  
cross-dresser!" he screamed, forgetting his high voice.  
  
Raoul started to laugh, and with that, Erik stomped on his other foot and conjured  
Christine away. Back at his house, Erik had changed, iced himself, brushed his teeth, and  
was burning the mouldy tutu when Christine came out of her room.  
  
"Are you sure you're not a cross-dresser, Erik?" she asked cautiously.  
  
"No, Christine, I'm not! Someday I'll explain," he answered in his normal,  
melodical voice. Ha! he thought. Someday like never!  
  
"Ok," she answered brightly. "I didn't think so. Raoul was just denying  
everything. I think you were wearing his tutu anyway."  



	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
  
Erik didn't dare come out of his home after the ballet ordeal, and Christine hadn't  
visited him, much to his displeasure. But on this morning, he was terrified to find her  
leaning over his bedside smiling brightly.  
  
"Oh good! you're awake!" she exclaimed cheerfully.  
  
"Christine, what a lovely surprise. I was hoping to see you . . ."  
  
"But that isn't the surprise," she interrupted. "I have an even bigger one later on.  
Just you wait!"  
  
Erik was intrigued.  
  
"A surprise? What sort of surprise? Will I like it?" he asked eagerly.  
  
Christine laughed.  
  
"I can't tell you. Then it wouldn't be a surprise! Oh I can't wait to see your  
reaction!"  
  
Uh oh, Erik thought. I hope it's not the sort of surprise as in, 'Erik, I've bought a  
new tutu for you!' He shuddered at the thought and pushed it away.  
  
"I, uh, am very busy today. Couldn't the surprise wait?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Oh no, no, no!" Christine shook her head. "Today is the day!"  
  
"Damn," Erik muttered.  
  
Christine looked startled.  
  
"Erik what did you say?"  
  
"I said 'delightful'," he lied.  
  
"It didn't sound like 'delightful'."  
  
"Well it was. Isn't it time for rehearsal?"  
  
Christine looked at the clock.  
  
"Oh my, it is! I'll see you later with the surprise, Erik!"  
She ran out of his room and out the front door before Erik could blink.  
  
"Superb. Au revoir dear," he said weakly to himself and fell back to sleep.  
  
He woke a little later to find Nadir on his divan, sipping a cup of tea, completely  
relaxed and at ease. Erik was shocked to see him wave, nod, and continue sipping his tea.  
  
"Oh hullo Erik! How does it go? Quite good, this tea is. Where do you get it? I  
must make a note to -"  
  
Nadir was cut off when the lethal rope went around his neck.  
  
"Just what did you think you were doing, entering my house without permission,  
and while I'm asleep, no less!"  
  
Nadir stop struggling and shrugged.   
  
"You said we must do tea again sometime."  
  
"Not when you're not invited! When will you learn to mind your own business,  
Nadir? When?"  
  
Just as Erik was tightening the rope, Christine burst through the front door.  
  
"Erik! I've brought the surprise!" she sang out in a sing-song voice. Raoul peeked  
over her shoulder and catching sight of Erik and Nadir, pushed Christine out of the way  
and strolled right into the room.  
  
Erik could feel his anger building up inside of him, but before he could say  
anything, Raoul shouted.  
  
"So you are into bondage too! That's fine, so am I!" Raoul grinned. "So this is  
your house? Quite nice."  
  
Erik dropped the lasso, and Nadir fell to the floor.   
  
"I am NOT into bondage, thank you very much! And I don't care to hear about  
your lascivious fetishes. And Christine: I don't want you hanging about this dirty fop  
anymore. Have I made myself clear? All of you get out! But you, Christine, can stay with  
me . . ."  
  
He kicked Raoul in the rear, causing him to fall out of the door, and shoved Nadir  
through afterwards, making him land flat on Raoul.   
  
"Bye bye," Erik sang, and waved his fingers while slamming the door in their  
faces. He turned to Christine. "Just what did you think you were doing with HIM?"  
  
Christine gave him a blank look.  
  
"Christine," Erik began slowly, "Raoul is a moron. A dolt. A fop. Why in the  
world did you bring him here? You know I can stand him as much as Carlotta can stand  
going five minutes without a chocolate! Do you follow?"  
  
Christine's eyes were glazed over. Erik sighed.  
  
"Never mind, Christine, I see you can't comprehend what I'm telling you. Just  
NEVER EVER bring him here again, or even mention him, is that clear?"  
  
Christine just stared and Erik gently manoeuvred her to the door.   
  
"I think you need some rest, dear. I'll take you back to your dressing room where I  
want you to get some sleep."  
  
Erik dropped Christine off at her dressing room and decided to roam the Opera  
House a bit. Seating himself comfortably in his box, he watch as stage hands set a scene  
for the upcoming opera. He was quite relaxed when he sensed a presence outside his  
door. He quickly hid himself in the shadows and watched as a figure came into the box.  
  
"Erik, I know you're in here!" rang Nadir's voice loudly.  
  
Erik jumped at the Persian and grabbed his neck.   
  
"Shut up, do you hear me? Are you trying to attract attention?" Erik growled  
through clenched teeth looking around warily.  
  
Nadir pushed him away and looked ashamed.  
  
"Heavens! Try to kill me before you can get an explanation. I wasn't trying to  
attract attention. Just yours," he grinned sheepishly.   
  
Erik sighed and rolled his eyes and sat back down in his chair.  
  
"What do you want, daroga?"  
  
The Persian fumbled with his sleeves and mumbled something unintelligible.  
  
"Speak up, I can't hear you!" Erik exclaimed impatiently.  
  
"I want you to, er, I want to, uh, accompany you."  
"Accompany me?" Erik nearly roared. "Accompany me in what, pray tell?"  
  
Nadir fumbled again with his words but managed to spit out, "Around the Opera. .  
."  
  
Erik stared at him increduously.  
  
"Darius is such a bore!" the daroga spilled out. "I'm tired of him! I need some  
adventure! And you seem to have lots of it, living in this lovely Opera House. I figure we  
can roam the corridors together. How about it?"  
  
Erik stared at him and burst into laughter.  
  
"You can't possibly mean it, can you Nadir? What are you high on?" Erik  
sniggered, but calmed himself at once. "And why aren't you sharing?"  
  
Nadir was flabbergasted.  
  
"I am NOT high on anything! How dare you suggest that?"  
  
Erik snorted.   
  
"Very well. Let's go."  
  
Nadir grinned. This was going to be fun. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
  
Erik and the Persian crept around in the blackness of the wings. The chorus was  
having rehearsal, and Carlotta was making a fool of herself, as usual. Flouncing around  
on stage in a frighteningly ugly dress, while Reyer was nearly bashing his head into the  
piano keys he was so frustrated with her. Christine was sitting in a chair off to the side,  
twirling her hair as usual. Erik stifled a giggle.  
  
"Watch this, Nadir!"  
  
He quickly climbed up to the catwalks where he could easily reach the stage  
lights. As soon as Carlotta moved underneath him, he cut the cord holding the light in  
place, and nearly laughed out loud as the light bulb shattered on her head, all the little  
pieces going down the front of her dress.  
  
"Oh! What was zhat?" the very large woman screeched. "Somezhing just went  
down my bosom!"  
  
Reyer looked ready to throw up.  
  
"The only thing that I can say goes "down your bosom" would be the food  
particles from the corners of your mouth. Now if you please, we are rehearsing!" Reyer  
exclaimed disgustedly.  
  
Carlotta's eyes bulged.  
  
"What are you talking about, little man! I could squash you in -"   
  
Carlotta was cut off by another light bulb crashing down, this time landing right in  
front of her. She shrieked a bloodcurdling screech while Erik covered his ears and  
laughed wildly. He tried to take no notice of Nadir motioning wildly for him to stop.  
  
"It iz ze ghost! I know it! I shall catch im zhis time!"  
  
Reyer tapped his foot impatiently.  
  
"Signora," he began dryly, "there is no ghost. The light bulbs falling were caused  
by you lumbering around on stage."  
  
Carlotta, very, VERY insulted, began rattling off curses and oaths in her native  
language, while Reyer sat there looking bored.   
  
"Whenever you are ready to continue, Signora."  
  
Erik crept down off the catwalks and met Nadir in the darkness.  
  
"This isn't all of yet!" he exclaimed, with a brightness in his eyes.  
  
He found a sheet backstage and threw it over himself, as he had done before with  
the managers. He darted out onto the stage and began shrieking. Everyone stared at him,  
but no one said anything. Disappointed, Erik stopped and stared back at them. Reyer  
rolled his eyes and strode up to him very crabbily.  
  
"Just what do you think you are doing, young man? I am *trying* to run a  
rehearsal here!" He ripped off the sheet and, not seeing the mask, told him to go sit down  
with the chorus. Erik stood there grinning.  
  
"Do you really think you can pull it off in THAT dress, Carlotta?" he sniggered  
while pointing at her.  
  
The chorus roared with laughter, but Reyer laughed the hardest.  
  
"What?! Who do you zhink you are? Well, I know what you are! You are ze  
Opera Ghost, and I shall get you if it's ze last zhing I do!" Carlotta thundered.  
  
The rest of the chorus soon saw that it was O.G. and they began screaming and  
running for cover. While Reyer hid behind the curtains, Carlotta pointed an accusing  
finger at Erik.  
  
"I don't think so!" Erik laughed again, and ran away so quickly Carlotta spun  
around, confused as to where he had gone. She ran towards the curtains where Reyer was  
hiding, and began yelling.  
  
"Where iz e? I know e is hiding somewhere around ere!"   
  
She stomped her foot in anger and fell right through the stage floor, making a  
gargantuan hole. Reyer started shrieking with laughter.  
  
"She's gone! She's gone! Thank god she's gone! Five years and it was that easy!  
Oh my god, she's gone, I can't believe it! Hallelujah!" He danced around the stage  
joyfully, and stared into the dark hole. From far down below, he could hear a faint  
mumbling.  
  
"It iz all is fault! Zhat ghost shall die! I will crush im like an egg!"  
  
Oh no, Reyer thought. She's still alive. And this will not turn out well for me. .  
.Perhaps the managers should be alerted. He ran off to the managers office. He could hear  
weird noises coming from inside, and then a very large groan. Hesitating, he meekly  
knocked.  
He could hear some mumbling, and then Richard's irritable voice.  
  
"What is it? We're very busy!"  
  
"It's about Carlotta . . . She's, er, had an accident," Reyer mumbled.  
  
"Speak up!" came the voice of Moncharmin.  
  
"Oh just let me come in!" Reyer cried, and pushed the door open.  
  
The darkness engulfed him like a wild flame and he fumbled for the light. Once  
lit, he saw the managers looking very guilty, Moncharmin lying sprawled on the floor and  
Richard clambering to his feet.  
  
"Uh, what ARE you two doing?" asked Reyer nervously.  
  
"We were, er, moving furniture," Moncharmin said quickly.  
  
"In the dark?" Reyer retorted.  
  
"It's none of your business," Richard interrupted. "What is it about Carlotta?"  
  
"Oh yes!" Reyer snickered. "She fell through the stage."  
  
"She WHAT?!" yelled the managers simultaneously.  
  
"She fell through the stage! Pity you weren't there . . . quite hilarious, actually,"  
mused Reyer. "No matter. The only sad part is, I think she survived the fall . . ."  
  
"Damn! I mean, oh no!" exclaimed Moncharmin.  
  
"Our profit!" moaned Richard. "Down the drain!"  
  
"I think you mean 'down in the cellars', Richard dear," corrected Moncharmin.  
  
Richard turned on Moncharmin.  
  
"What did I tell you? Never call me 'Richard dear'! It's 'Richard *darling*'!  
Can't you get it straight?" Richard suddenly seemed to remember that Reyer was still  
there. "What are you still doing here? Go see if you can't help Carlotta."  
  
"How?" Reyer asked. "*I* don't to help HER!"  
  
"I don't know!" roared Richard. "Throw crumbs to her, something! We can't have  
her starving on us."  
"Highly unlikely," said Reyer.  
  
"She's not a damn pigeon, Richard *darling*!"  
  
"I don't care if she's a toucan with twelve eyes! Just get out!" Richard fumed.  
  
Moncharmin and Reyer turned to leave.  
  
"No, Moncharmin, you stay here. Reyer; you leave."  
  
Reyer rolled his eyes and went through the door. He suddenly turned around and  
grinned.  
  
"Oh by the way, *Richard darling*, your zipper is down."  
  
Then he left. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
  
Erik led Nadir down to the cellars, very near where Carlotta had fallen through.  
He fell down against the cold stones and burst into laughter.  
  
"What great fun, eh, daroga? What do you say?" Erik wiped some tears away.  
  
"Is this what you do for fun, Erik?" the Persian asked. Under his breath he  
muttered, "What a sad little man."  
  
Erik stiffened.  
  
"I heard that. I don't think you deserve to go on any more escapades with me.  
Perhaps I'll just leave you here stuck in the cellars with Carlotta? No, I couldn't do that.  
I've a better idea."   
  
In the dark, Erik grinned and pulled out some feathers, the same ones he had used  
earlier on to mock the viscount. He motioned for Nadir to follow him and the crept  
around to Carlotta. She was sitting on the floor, sniffling and crying that she would starve  
to death.  
  
"Watch this!" Erik whispered. He took the feather and tickled Carlotta's nose with  
it.  
  
"Oh no! What iz zhat? My allergies!" She gave an enormous snort and sneezed so  
hard it echoed around the cellars for a good ten minutes. Erik tried to stifle giggles but  
without success. He tickled her nose again and again until she sneezed so hard, even the  
Persian could hear her eardrums pop.  
  
"Erik isn't this dangerous? She's like a hornet! As mad a bull in a china closet,  
they say! We could get ourselves killed . . ."  
  
Erik waved his hand as if to reassure the Persian. He pinched Carlotta's arm and  
said "My what muscular arms Signora has!"  
  
"What? Zhat iz you, O.G.! I know it! I'm going to get you!" Carlotta groaned as  
she tried to stand up. She thundered off down the opposite direction while Nadir stared at  
the cracked stone where she had fallen. He whistled.  
  
"Golly, would you look at that! She could snap someone like a twig! That's the  
last time I *ever* provoke someone bigger than me!"  
  
Erik snickered and put away the feather. "All in a day's work, my friend." He  
grinned and added, "Just wait until you see tonight's opera!"  
  
******************************  
  
Nadir came to the night's opera, worrying greatly what was going to happen. As  
soon as he walked into the front doors, the managers rushed up to him mumbling  
excitedly that he was to sit in Box Five. He shrugged and took off for it. It was empty, but  
he sat down and began to watch the opera. But something did not feel right. Suddenly the  
grand chandelier caught his attention. It was flickering madly and shaking about.  
  
"Erik! He's going to drop the bloody chandelier on the people!" he shouted. He  
could do nothing but watch in horror as the the giant light fixture swung wildly back and  
forth, increasing in speed quite quickly. He could hear Erik's insane laughter echoing  
about the auditorium, while the people turned in their seats shushing each other, not  
noticing the chandelier.   
  
Carlotta, who had succeeded in finding her way out of the cellars, was singing on  
stage, more awfully than ever, adding to Nadir's fright. He watched the chandelier give a  
little shake each time she belted out a very loud note, which happened to be every note,  
unfortunately.  
  
But curiously, only bits and pieces fell off the chandelier. Suddenly it stopped  
shaking all together and Nadir cringed as he heard Erik's angry voice over Carlotta's.  
  
"Damn! Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!"  
  
People were now turning about in their seats and some were leaving.  
  
"Stupid chandelier!" Erik muttered and then Nadir could hear him no more.  
  
Carlotta fumed and spat out some words in Spanish, while refusing to sing  
anymore if people were leaving. The managers rushed onstage and comforted her that her  
understudy was coming on. Carlotta darkened at that and suddenly said that she could do  
it. They shrugged and rushed back offstage.  
  
Carlotta opened her mouth to sing the next aria when nothing but large quacking  
came out! Nadir started laughing, but quickly covered his mouth. Carlotta continued  
quacking, and then Erik's disembodied voice began yelling.  
  
"Look! It is Signora duck!"  
  
Bits of bread fell from the ceiling and landed on the stage at Carlotta's feet. Even  
though she was still quacking, she reached down and gobbled up the bread. Erik howled  
with laughter and gave the chandelier a kick. It shattered and it's many pieces came off  
one by one, like diamonds falling from the sky. People grabbed at the pieces for souvenirs  
and ran out of the Opera House. Seeing that there was nothing he could do, Nadir left for  
his home.  
  
Long after the auditorium had been emptied, Erik stay in the attic of the House,  
laughing the hours away. It had been fun, especially how Carlotta had eaten the stale  
bread. He had decided she would sound better off quacking than croaking anyway. She  
sure made one hell of a duck, he had to admit. He ran off to Christine's dressing room  
and waited behind the mirror for her.  
  
"Erik, I've been waiting for you for a long time. Did you see what happened to  
Carlotta? She made a big scene on stage!" Christine asked, puzzled.  
  
"Oh yes, I was there, Christine, little do you know," Erik said, holding his hand  
over his mouth so he wouldn't burst into laughter. "Time to come with me now."  
  
"Oh no, I can't!" she exclaimed. "I promised Raoul I would go out to dinner with  
him."  
  
"What?!?!" Erik yelled. "You promised me over a week ago you would come with  
me! What is it, Christine?" he quickly stepped through the mirror into her dressing room.  
"Is it my face, is that why you forget about me so easily? Tell me Christine, does this  
frighten you?" He gestured to his face angrily.  
  
Christine's mouth fell open like a fish's.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Erik! It's Raoul's money!" She giggled like she had said  
something incredibly funny.  
  
Erik pouted.  
  
"But I have money to! I'm richer than the viscount, and you know it!" he  
protested. "No, I know what it is. He's a cross-dresser, and is just your size so you two go  
have fun. I'll be sitting here, just waiting for you when you come back."  
  
Christine shuddered.  
  
"Don't remind me of Raoul's secret! But how do you know of it too? I thought I  
was the only one besides the managers who knew!" she exclaimed.  
  
Erik racked his brains.   
  
"Uh, I have my connections . . ."  
  
"Oh wow! Perhaps I can stay with you instead of Raoul. He's so dull anyway.  
Nothing at all like you."   
  
Erik grinned.   
  
"Well, yes, I can make the accommodations, of course, my dear. Just follow me . .  
." 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8  
  
  
"Christine, are you seriously thinking about going to that silly New Year's  
masquerade ball?" Raoul scorned, while examining his manicured fingernails. He lifted a  
blond eyebrow.  
  
"Of course! Where else can I dress up like a princess?" she smirked.  
  
"On the stage of the Paris Opera," Raoul replied, debating whether or not his nails  
would look good painted. He stopped and then answered, "No, you're right. Why get paid  
to dress like that when you can do it for free!"  
  
Christine reflected, but more like a mirror would. The phrase just didn't sink in.  
  
"I know!" she exclaimed. "Why don't we go together! We can BOTH dress up as  
a pair and go!" She laughed at her genius and clapped her hands.  
  
"Oh superb," Raoul said, not realising Christine's suggestion, now seeing that he  
might want to have his nails done hot pink. "Why don't you suggest that we go as  
dominoes?"  
  
Christine's eyes widened.  
  
"Raoul! That's *exactly* what I was going to say! Can you read minds?" she  
asked suddenly and excitedly.  
  
Raoul started.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're talking about? I'm not some damned loony!"  
  
Christine was aghast.  
  
"Raoul, such language!" she shook her finger. "I'm surprised at you. I've only  
ever heard Erik-"  
  
Raoul cut her off.  
  
"Erik? Who's Erik?"  
  
Christine smiled.  
  
"Don't you remember? I took you to his house."  
  
Raoul shook his head.  
  
"Nope. Don't recall."  
  
"But you must! Remember, he kicked us out!"  
  
Raoul took out his nail file and started filing his nails.  
  
"No, doesn't ring a bell."  
  
Christine was disappointed.  
  
"Well, you did . . ."  
  
"Christine, how do you think my nails would look painted?" he asked abruptly.  
  
"Uh . . ." Christine trailed off.  
  
"How about hot pink? Or orange?"  
  
"Well, I usually like pastel pink . . .it's so pretty . . ."  
  
"But I like *hot* pink!" Raoul whined incessantly.  
  
"Whatever you want, Raoul," Christine sighed. He was just like an annoying  
brother. Or sister, for that matter.  
  
Raoul humphed.  
  
"So are we going to the masquerade ball?" Christine implored.  
  
"Oh fine, " Raoul spat. "I don't care."  
  
"Splendid! I'll get started right away on our costumes. But you! Such a temper  
today, Raoul! Are you sure nothing's wrong?"   
  
Just then Philippe burst into the room.  
  
"Raoul! I need to-" he stopped when he saw Christine. He visibly shuddered and  
asked, "Who are you?"   
  
Raoul jumped in.  
  
"This is Christine Daae. From the Opera. You remember her, don't you? She  
triumphed as Margarita!"  
  
Christine waved.  
  
"Oh. Yes. Well, what is she doing here?"  
  
"She's over for . . . er, lunch? No wait, it's after noon, so she's here for tea. Or  
maybe it's dinner . . ."  
  
Philippe squinted his eyes. What an odd child, he thought.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me? I might have had plans for us tonight."  
  
" 'Us'? What if I wanted to do something myself?"  
  
"You can't do that!"  
  
"Why not?" Raoul asked stubbornly.  
  
"Well, because. . . because I say."  
  
Raoul pouted.  
  
"Just because you're older than me, means you can rule my life?"  
  
Philippe reflected.  
  
"Yes, pretty much. Hey, you're smarter than I thought."  
  
Raoul looked very flustered.  
  
"Well, if that's the way you think -"  
  
"Yes, I do think that way. It's because I have to. See, if I let you run off and do  
whatever you wanted, you'd be in the gutter right now."  
  
Raoul shuddered.  
  
"Gutters. Ew."  
  
"Exactly my dear boy. I can see you now. You and some harlot," Philippe said,  
leaning back and closing his eyes. "I can't believe you Raoul! See, that is why I take care  
of you, understand?"  
  
"Er, uh, how about . . . no!" Raoul shouted suddenly.  
  
Philippe jumped back as if he was physically struck.  
  
"What?! How can you say that? Perhaps you *aren't* as smart as I once thought  
you were . . ."  
  
"That's not nice! You can go shove a stick up your -"  
  
Philippe slapped Raoul across the face.  
  
"Don't dare use that language with me, little boy!"  
  
Raoul burst into tears.  
  
"How can you do this to me? My rough childhood with you, and now, this?"  
  
Philippe crossed his arms, and just barely looked at Christine. He shook his head,  
while Christine sat and pondered this episode.  
  
"Raoul, you went to a naval academy. What is so rough about that?"  
  
Raoul covered his face with his hands and mumbled.  
  
"What? I can't hear you."  
  
"I said . . . oh it's too horrible, Philippe. I had . . .I had to . . ."  
  
"Bloody heck! What did you have to do, Raoul, spit it out!"  
  
"I had to undress in front of other people!" he yelled, and began sobbing again.  
  
"Raoul, Raoul, I'm sorry . . ." Philippe walked over to Raoul and lifted his hands  
away from his face. "But that's just a fact of life you have to learn to accept!" He slapped  
Raoul on each cheek, and Raoul was stunned.  
  
"What was that for?" he stuttered.  
  
"For being a sissy, you little girl!" exclaimed Philippe, disgustedly.  
  
Raoul stood up and poked his brother in the arm.  
  
"I'm leaving. Come along Christine. And Philippe, you won't see me around  
*here* anymore." Raoul grabbed Christine and ran out the door.  
  
"I give him a week," said Philippe.  
  
"Nah, I give him 11 minutes," laughed the butler.  



	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
  
Philippe had been reading quietly in his room when he heard a loud crash.  
  
"What the devil could that be?" he wondered aloud. "Must be that silly maid  
again. I really must consider hiring graceful maids."  
  
He reflected for a little while.  
  
"I wonder if that Daae girl is free?"  
  
This time, a much louder, much closer crash was heard. Philippe stifled some  
harsh words, threw down his book, flung open the door, and stomped down the hall only  
to find Raoul dragging, or rather attempting to drag, his bed out of his chambers.  
  
"What are you doing?" Philippe shouted, completely flabbergasted as to why  
Raoul would decided to suddenly rearrange his room.  
  
Raoul panted and gasped for breath.  
  
"I told you, I'm leaving! I want to be . . . eh, what's the word, dear brother?"  
  
"Independent?" Philippe suggested with a lifted eyebrow.  
  
"Yes!" Raoul exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "I'm going to be enduhpindont," he  
slurred out the words.  
  
"I see," said Philippe thinking all the while 'Who's this nut?'  
  
"Yes, and I can't leave you and be independent without taking my beautiful  
clothings with me, now can I?"  
  
"So you're going to take your entire wardrobe with you to the guest house on the  
premises?"  
  
"No, don't be ridiculous! I'm taking yours with me too!"  
  
"What the deuce are you saying? You're feverish. Go to bed." Philippe gave the  
dresser a shove and slammed the door in Raoul's face. "Silly boy! That Daae has got his  
head twisted every way."  
  
*******  
  
  
Philippe climbed out of his coach and fell down in fright when he looked at his  
lawn. Before he left for the Opera, it was perfect in every way, not a blade of grass out of  
place. Now it was covered with Raoul bedroom. Literally. Every piece of furniture from  
Raoul's chamber was in front of the chateau, arranged as the room had originally been.  
Raoul was tucked under the covers of his bed, sucking his thumb.  
  
"Dear god!" shrieked Philippe incredulously from his position on the ground.  
"What did you do?"  
  
Raoul grinned. "I'm inundated."  
  
Philippe blinked. "You're what?"  
  
Raoul frowned. "No, that's not right. I'm . . . ignorant!"  
  
Philippe stood up. "Well, thank you for stating the obvious, Raouly dear."  
  
"I told you I could be," Raoul replied smugly.  
  
"Superb. . . now return your room back to it's original state."  
  
Raoul burst into tears. "But Philippe-"  
  
"Do as I say! End of conversation, pretty boy. If you don't follow my instructions,  
I shall take away your dolls."  
  
He was answered only by Raoul's sobs. The wardrobe began to wobble and  
Daaé's voice could be heard from within mumbling something incoherent. Philippe  
smacked his head and tore open the door. Christine was hung up like a coat inside.  
  
"How the dickens. . .? Nevermind, I don't want to hear it. I forbid you two to ever  
see each other again. And what's more, you are not allowed to go to the masked ball,  
Raoul!"  
  
"No!" wailed the forlorn viscount.  
  
"And you, Miss Trollop, are never to pass upon these grounds again, or I'll have  
you shot. Understand?"  
  
Christine stared blankly.   
  
"Did you hear me? I said you can never-"  
  
"I've been called a trollop before by my adoring fans! So you really do like me,  
Monsieur Raoul's brother! All along I thought you despised me, but then you go about  
and compliment me! How gracious!" interrupted Christine with a giggle.  
  
Dear lord, they are perfect for each other, thought Philippe.  
  
When the Daaé girl left, Philippe watched like a hawk as Raoul picked his room  
up and returned it to the house. Raoul's wails did not stop even after Philippe promised  
him cookies and sorts of lovely sweets.  
  
"Raoul dear, you cannot about doing things without my permission. It simply  
won't work. And if you think you can get away with it, think again. Any of the servants  
will tell me, because, as everyone knows, I have all the money and perks that go along  
with it."  
  
Raoul wiped his drippy nose on his sleeve.  
  
"I just wanted to be inoculated though!" he cried pointedly.  
  
"But you have been. For smallpox, though I wouldn't be too sad now to see your  
face all pitted. At any rate when you are old enough, oh say, 50, you shall be able to live  
on your own. I just don't think you are ready to take on the responsibility of an adult,  
Raoul. Do you understand?"  
  
"Do I still get to go the ball?" Raoul asked, everything going in one ear and out  
the other.  
  
"No." 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten  
  
Raoul climbed out of his bedroom window, hanging on the gutter. Unfortunately  
for him, it was still light out and all the servants saw him. The butler alerted Philippe, and  
much to his displeasure, he realised he would have to chase Raoul to the ball.  
  
"Damnation! I'll never find him with all these hooligans! And that strumpet he  
always hangs about. . ." He disappeared into the crowd.  
  
Meanwhile, Erik was propping a red hat on his head and grinning like the Chesire  
Cat.  
"Don't I look marvellous!" he exclaimed, and examined himself from all angles  
in front of the mirror. "Pretty as a picture!" He thought for a moment, and then called out,  
"O Nadir! Do come and let me see how you look!"  
  
A muffled reply was all that answered. Erik tapped his foot impatiently. "If you  
don't come out this instant, I shall Punjab you!" He stomped his foot for effect.  
  
"Fine! But only because you're paying me!" Nadir tiptoed into the drawing room  
dressed as Little Bopeep. Erik burst into tears of laughter. Nadir covered himself and ran  
from the room.  
  
"I won't!" he cried.  
  
"O yes, you will. I'm not going to miss this for anything! I'm just dying to see  
how it will turn out. . ."  
  
  
**************  
  
Two dominos ran by, bumping into things and giggling wildly.  
  
"Wow, that is strong alco- I mean chocolate!"  
  
"Yes, what a rush! Ooh!"  
  
"Isn't being a domino fun?" she asked.  
  
Raoul sulked. "I'd rather be a pink domino."  
  
"Oh phooey! You're a big baby."  
  
Mme. Giry, dark and sober as ever, could be seen trying to restrain little Meg. She  
convinced her to dance, which she did. However, when someone threw a five franc note  
at her, to Giry's shock, Meg replied, "I'm not that cheap!" Meg would have received a  
box to the ear if she had not run away after some fop licking her lips shrieking "Yum!"  
  
When the half naked ballet girl ran by, Raoul's eyes bopped out of his head and  
tried to grab her, but Christine slapped him hard.  
  
"Was that . . .MEG?!" Christine screeched, while an elephant thundered past,  
singing "Ubaldo! Follow moi!"  
  
Raoul scratched his head his head. "A singing elephant. . ." he wondered aloud.  
"Strange and magnificent. . ."  
  
****  
  
Reyer sighed crabbily. Why couldn't anyone find the secretary? And why were the  
managers always holed up in their office? He came upon their closed door, when voices  
stopped him.  
  
"Yes, that's it. . ."  
  
Reyer shuddered and barged into darkness. He turned on the gas just in time to see  
Richard wiping his mouth. Armand cleared his throat loudly. Reyer tried not to notice a  
large stain on his pants. "Yes?"  
  
"Er. . .yes, you're both wanted on the grand staircase for a toast."  
  
"Yes. . well, we will be down presently. You saw nothing, right?' Richard asked  
quietly.  
  
Reyer turned to leave. "No I didn't see you wiping your mouth and I didn't see  
that large stain on Armand's pants." He closed the door behind him.  
  
The managers appeared at the top of the staircase, grinning and each holding a  
sparkling glass of champagne. Armand sported a bright blue opera cape, whilst Richard  
had a purple. They were both quite drunk, but wanting to make a speech. Richard gulped  
down the last of his champagne and threw it over his shoulder, not attracting anyone's  
attention. He frowned and danced like a monkey, but still no one looked. Finally,  
Moncharmin pointed to Richard and yelled "Get it here!"  
  
Silence fell upon the masqueraders and all eyes turned in horror to the stairs. But  
it wasn't the managers they were all looking at. It was a scarlet guest, dressed as death  
himself. Richard jumped into Moncharmin's arms and shrieked, but the Red Death only  
laughed mirthlessly. The crowd visibly shuddered as the Death made it's way down the  
stairs and around the corner.  
  
"Iz im! Zhe Gost! Lemme get im an I shall crush im like a leetle bug! Finally, I  
shall be deeeeeeva onse moe!" shrieked a very drunk and very fat Carlotta, whilst dashing  
after the Red Death.  
  
"Uhnf!" yelled Richard when he dumped on the floor by Moncharmin. "What do  
you think you're-" but was cut off by Moncharmin's speech.  
  
"Patrons, friends. . .mostly patrons, I am honoured to have you here this evening. .  
."  
  
Richard grumbled and kicked Moncharmin in the rear.  
  
"As you know, we've had some mishaps throughout. . ."  
  
Moncharmin droned on while Richard got more and more jealous.  
  
"Here, come off it, it's my turn!" shouted an ever maddening Richard. He pushed  
his partner down and cleared his throat.  
  
"I would like to have everyone's attention, please."  
  
Armand threw down his glass and burped loudly. "Ah yes. . ."  
  
Richard gave him a dirty look and continued. "It's been a long year. . ."  
  
He was cut short by Armand's extreme interest in the carpet. "Ooooh. . ."  
murmured Armand. Richard glared.  
  
"As I was saying, a *very* long year. . ." Richard noticed Armand's drunken  
teetering on the edge of the stair and the beginning of the imminent fall. "Oh no my  
love!" he cried and grabbed the seat of Armand's pants. A loud tear filled the hall and  
Armand tumbled down the stairs without his trousers. A gasp came in ensemble from the  
everyone. The colour drained from both of their faces, and Armand immediately became  
sober. Simultaneously, they cried, "We weren't doing anything, honestly!"  
  
"Zhen what do you call zhis?" shrieked a very drunken elephant cracking a whip.  
  
  
Mme. Giry shrieked and fainted. Reyer jumped out of the crowd shouting "I knew  
it! I knew it! Hah, you owe me two thousand francs Gabriel! Yes! I'm rich!"  
  
The managers screamed and dashed back to their office, leaving the ripped pants  
behind.  
  
In the midst of the excitement, Raoul did not notice Christine's absence. He  
grabbed for a bottle of champagne and made off for a dark corner. Meanwhile, a rather  
handsome Bopeep made her entrance. Reyer's eyes lit up at her sight. He quickly latched  
his arm to her and they began dancing.  
  
"How come I've never seen you around here before?" ask Reyer inquisitively.  
Bopeep just shrugged her shoulders. Reyer pondered.  
  
"You know, now that I think of it, you do look a bit familiar. . .I just can't place it.  
. ."  
  
Again Bopeep shrugged her shoulders and secretly held her breath. A stray curl  
brushed her cheek and she reached her finger to twirl it back to its place, pulling a bit too  
hard. The wig landed in Reyer's face, resulting in a horrified scream.  
  
"It's a rat! Get it off me! Help!" Nadir made his get away just as Reyer peeled the  
hair off his face. "Darling, were did you go?" he called in vain, but Bopeep was nowhere  
to be seen. He threw the wig on the floor, not noticing what, exactly, it was. Had he only  
looked, his worst fears would have been confirmed.  
  
The Persian peeled off the dress and changed back into his normal clothes. The  
man made himself known out of the crowd.   
  
"I have a speech to make! Listen all! In honour of a new chandelier, I have  
composed a little something that relates.  
  
" ' We're all mad about there or here about and nothing at all is all we think of  
and not anything. Contradiction is to the dictionary and sense and vice versa, wherever  
you tend to be, in a frame of reference referring to the irrelevant in a rather relevant state  
of mind, or not at all!  
  
" 'Ever thereafter, those contradicting oxymorons are in a sane world, or at least  
one that has gone mad. Nonsensical awareness is siphoned upside down by the obsolete,  
whilst those counting darkness trip up the line of light dripping away from the horizon.  
It's a slow race of dim-witted intellects and proper scoundrels that make the world mad.  
  
" 'Hypocritical religious people go about like flies on jam whilst children  
innocently violate rules. Is this just a red herring or am I correct? It would be quite  
answerable if one knew what a red herring was.' "  
  
He bowed and awaited for the applause that never came. Someone in the crowd  
yelled, "What?!" and another "No one knows what you're talking about!"  
  
The man frowned sadly and ran off. "Why don't they ever understand! Do I need  
to speak in Persian?!" 


End file.
